


now comes the night

by noun



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Origins fic, lady templars, precanon, tiny!maria
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noun/pseuds/noun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a woman in the Holy Land, before, after, and during; or, a series of drabbles on maria thorpe, au and canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. suffer the little children

**Author's Note:**

> help i have too many thorpefeels.

 

The branch sways slightly under her weight, but she is sure and steady as she moves, hands grasping at the bark, finding the tiny cracks between the wood and then hoisting herself up, bare feet scrabbling because she doesn’t own any shoes that would be suited for this- or, technically, any dresses.

This one hasn’t been too badly ruined, it’s the mud that destroys them. She’s careful enough when climbing that the fabric doesn’t catch and tear. Her father doesn’t distinguish between these two activities when it comes to ruined dresses- no roughhousing includes mud AND trees– and playing as an entire concept is thus, banned. It’s isn’t her fault Maria isn’t a boy! She knows her father would like that better, but she can’t help that she’s a girl and will have breasts and hips and is only good for bearing children. It’s not her fault, she thinks again, blinking back tears and reaching for the next branch. If she gets high enough the manor and grounds will seem so small around her that maybe those problems will seem small too.

Her hand is on a branch when she hears it, in the midst of hoisting herself higher–

“Maria!”

The anger startles her, mostly because of the scream that accompanies it. It is so loud and so unexpected that her concentration is broken and her hand slips, placing most of her weight on the hand leaning on the tree- and down she goes.

A branch hits her in the back, knocks the wind out of her lungs while smaller ones whip and tear at her. It is a long way down, but she does not scream, does not make any noise. She can’t.

And down she goes.

Something hits the back of her neck hard and she is so dazed by the loss of wind and the stars in her eyes that she doesn’t even move as she breaks through the last branches and has a bit of a freefall. She lands in something that is slightly forgiving and wet, and thinks that she will close her eyes for just a second, forget who was yelling at her. Then there is the sound of boots, big boots thumping along through the ground. Maria tries to lift her hand, tries to get up, only to find that the world still spins.

The ground is too soft. It is mud, she realizes with a burst of clarity, and that brings her back enough to giggle– then there is a hand grabbing her shoulder and hoisting her up. She struggles to get her feet back under herself, but succeeds. The hand belongs to her father. She takes a few lazy blinks and he comes back into focus, if only vaguely.

He is enraged, his cheeks ruddy as he towers above her. His armor is on, sword on his hip. Matthew is there too, she realizes, blinking owlishly. She is not close with her eldest brother, but maybe–

“What have I told you?” Her father thunders, taking a step closer and Maria nearly falls over. “You terrified your mother- she’s with child, I won’t lose my son to your antics–“

And indeed, there is her mother, mouth a tight line as she watches, just watches. Maria thinks of how she used to be angry when her mother did not do anything when her father yelled. This was before she realized her mother did not belong to herself, and therefore could not contradict father. She is honestly upset that she has worried her mother, but this treatment from her father– she knows she is not what he wanted–

A hard slap to her cheek sends her falling back into the mud again. The air is again pushed out of her chest and she stares up, just watching, as father turns away, and William follows. She cannot see her mother from where she lays, but maybe that is best.

“Have someone bathe her, we have guests tonight,” her father thunders as he walks towards the gate. He will be training William today. Maria thinks her is lucky as one of the woman who serves him hauls her to her feet and pushes her, stumbling, forward and to the castle proper.

 

* * *

 

Maria likes baths. The servant usually charged with the task is the same woman who once served as her nursemaid. Her name is Anne, and she knows wonderful stories. She speaks of William the Conquer, who her brother was named for, and the Byzantines, and stories about all the Saints. Because she crosses herself after mentioning Jesus or God, the poor woman ends up nearly as soaked as Maria by the time they are done.  
  
She knows she is technically not supposed to like the baths, that they give people diseases in the water. She knows her father does not care, that even if it wasn’t healthy, it has the desired effect of making her look not muddy, which is the goal. Maria knows for sure that she does not like the soap, not one bit. Anne has told her it is made from fat and lye and that the latter ingredient is used to clean the ovens after a feast. Maria does not think she is that dirty, and besides, it stings when it gets into the scrapes on her hands and knees.

The best part of the bath is getting her hair washed. Anne rubs lavender oil into it after she has scrubbed it with the soap but before she rinses it. Maria loves the way the scent will float around her, settle into her pillows at night.

Once her hair is rinsed, Anne braids it. The older woman loves Maria’s hair, twists it between her fingers, admiring the rich chestnut of it. Maria knows she is not pretty- her lips are too thin, her forehead flat, her nose too big for her face, but she can be proud of her hair, which hasn’t been cut since she was born. Anne likes to crow over that marvel, but tonight she braids in a no nonsense manner, and hurries Maria out of the tub.

“Dress quickly, Maria,” Anne urges as she helps her first into her shift, then into the dress. The girdle is loosely tied about her waist- she is only seven-nearly-eight, cannot wear the clothes of a woman yet- and her feet pinched into shoes. Finally, reverently, Anne lifts the small gold cross from its place in the case and sets it into place around her neck. There is a flurry of movement from her former nursemaid as she plucks and straightens– and then she is satisfied, and lets out a sigh.

“Go to the main hall, sweetling,” Anne tells her. “Your brother is back from the monastery–“ And Maria nearly bolts at that because John, John is back for Easter and maybe he will have books and John!- but Anne grabs her shoulder, laughs, then sternly says, “And walk now, like a good girl.” Maria sighs, but does as she is asked.

The main hall is down two sets of stairs and Maria takes them one at a time, hands fisted loosely in the dress. If she is badly behaved, maybe father will let her spend more time with John. John is three-and-ten and maybe going to be a monk someday because he is a third son– William is the heir and Matthew the spare, and nothing will be left in the inheritance for John after Maria’s dowry.

The door to the hall comes into view– and there is her father at the big table, and William at his right– and with his back facing the door, John, dear John and someone sitting next to John who is taller than her father.

“There she is,” her father thunders, not entirely displeased, standing up and gesturing for her to enter. Oh, he is in a good mood for the guest. Maria must behave extra well, then. She takes small, lady-like steps to the big table, keeping her head bowed. Father claps her on the back, and she looks up. John is smiling at her so wide she thinks she will go mad from it, trying to school her own face into neutrality. The other man regards her with a calm expression. She guesses he must be at least five-and-twenty, if not older.

"Maria," her John says, and his voice is as soft and kind as she remembers it being. "This is Lord Hallaton. The monastery is located on his lands. He will be staying with us for Easter.”

Maria curtseys, trying her very best. She hears a slight noise from her father in approval. “See? I told you she was a pretty thing. A good way to tie our families together, and thank you for the kindness shown towards my son.”

Oh, Maria thinks sadly. Another man who she might have to wed. Mayhap she will put frogs in his boots or– and her father shoots her a glare, as if he can tell what she is thinking.

“None of that now,” Lord Hallaton says, standing. “Marriage is a long way off for a slip of a thing such as that girl. Being a bachelor for a few more years can’t hurt.”

Maria thinks she almost likes him.


	2. spearwife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon. thoughts on maria and robert's relationship.

She grew out her hair when he asked– not demanded, asked. That was the thing about Robert, he was the first man to treat her like an equal– like more than an equal, like she was a person, like she was to be respected.

And then they had fallen into a relationship that was that of husband and wife even though he had a wife at home (who he had not seen in years) and she was not a ‘woman’ in the current conventional sense of the word.

He treated her like one, though. Made her feel like some sort of goddess. He liked her hair, would wind his fingers in it while he fucked her from behind like they were animals. No. Not fucked. Made love. Because even though this was violent, there was still a grace in it, a love, a respect in his thrusts and the gentle way he would carry her to the bath, after, give her salve for the bruises.

And she thinks– I wouldn’t mind bearing his children. It is a traitorous thought, but she does not banish it as quickly as she should.


	3. a second path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a maria/kadar au.

Maria rides to Masyaf after the events in Cyrpus, but she does not ride alone. When the assassin had asked her what she might do, she had answered ‘I have someone waiting for me’ and left- and the person she returned to the fortress with was a man crippled so he could never walk but who still smiled so wide when the tower came into view with his odd blue eyes that she thinks yes, it was worth it to hide him away and bribe and steal and lie to get him home.


	4. mary, queen of heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an au in which the ends are achieved, but by entirely different means.

On her eighteenth birthday, her parents give her the gift of a choice: Marry Lord Hallaton, or take the cloth.

She takes the cloth, weds the Lord- but once more, the word of the Crusades reaches her, and she goes off to do the Lord’s work. She is vicious in battle, rides a white mare, and keeps her hair covered in a variation of the habit she wore when she was cloistered.

( _wasn’t rachel just as patient and strong as jacob_

_jezebel cut swaths through the righteous, let a godly woman do the same to her ilk_

_didn’t sarah suffer and fight while she was still sarai_ )

She remains chaste and pure throughout her journey. Robert’s companions take more kindly to a Virgin than to a lady knight, and she is accepted. She will never be a Templar, but she does not want to be.

(somewhere along the line, she stops being ‘ _maria_ ’ and becomes ‘ _mary_ ’. a mistake in translation, she guesses.)

More women come to the Holy Lands, cast off their worldly burdens, and fight. For is anything as strong as a mother’s protective urge to save their children? They are chaste, good women. They tend to the ill. No one says a word against them.

Somewhere along the line, they become a sister branch to the Templars, a lower branch- but still a line along the same tree.

It is enough.   
  
Then, her comrades start to fall to the blade of an Assassin. One by one, they topple. Meetings in Robert’s tent stretch longer into the night. She gets dark bags under her eyes. It means nothing, cosmetically. Aesthetically, it potentially speaks of her weakness as a commander.

Robert’s presence is requested at a funeral. He is needed in the field. She goes in his stead, with Templar knights.

She does not guess why none of her own women are with her, until it is too late. The assassin is defeated, tied up _(twenty against one, twenty with crossbows and deceit against one man who is letting naivety and trust and humanity blossom in his soul again_ ) and she is as well, his own blade pressed against her throat. She has grown too self-assured for Bouchard’s liking, she is told. So she will die honorably, protecting her brothers, cut down by an assassin. Her death will open doors, they say.

The assassin ( _Altair_ , she later learns. _Altair, the son of none_ ) escapes his bonds, takes advantage, moves too fast for her to see, cuts down all twenty men in a whirl, and then, when it is her turn, offers her his hand, helps her stand.

She burns the veil that night as they travel to meet Robert properly. Maria (for she has lost so much of what she believed to be true, so she must reclaim her true name) tries to believe he had no part in the plot.

(Ten days into their journey on foot, she crawls close to him, kisses him. It’s a comfort he’s just as clumsy as she is, and when he ruts against her hips and comes in his smallclothes, she laughs a little while he turns red and sheepishly _smiles_. They do not speak of it in the morning.)

(Twenty days, as they near the gates, he presses the very head of him into her, pushes up against the maidenhead that she really shouldn’t have, not after all this horseback riding and fighting, but does not go further. He understands she needs it still. After he spills insider her, he licks his seed from her, and makes her see stars with his fingers and tongue.

She wakes up the next morning tied to a tree while he goes to kill Robert. He’s taken any potential guilt from her, and she’s thankful for it.)

They part outside of Jerusalem.

Her moontime does not come a month later, or two, and she laughs while crying before going to purchase a fast horse to take her to Masyaf.


End file.
